Love Remains
by ECpotofan
Summary: "Love comes to those who bear the wait." We all know Erik is a lonesome soul and when he lets Christine go, his existence becomes even more lonely. Nadir returns to his life despite what's happened and helps his friend out of the torture chamber...
1. Chapter 1

_**Erik:**_

I let her go - and yet I could never let go. That single peck on the forehead was enough to make me want to die, but my body just would not give up. It was too stubborn for that - I was too stubborn for that.

As always, the underground was a cold, dark place that only a recluse like myself could find content in. But these days, I badly wanted to settle down. It had been a need of mine for a while, but it was an impossible feat. If Christine is reluctant to be my wife, then I am truly doomed to die alone and without purpose. Everyone took the normal life for granted, yet I would give any just to have it. Just to taste sweet wedded bliss - to have a special someone that would be brave enough to grant me children and a happy home with music abound and little walks on Sundays. O, how peaceful that sounded... and yet I will never have it.

Ayesha, the poor creature I called mine, brought back five rats from the cellars - all dead. I did not have anyone to feed and therefore I began to neglect myself. Even she noticed. The little, gray feline rubbed up against my thing and I struggled to lift up my head. She mewed and looked to her dead prey as if to tell me to dig in. I threw what remained of the wine bottle into the fireplace and it ignited. My mind played tricks yet again and for a moment, I could see the flames forming Christine's lovely figure - every naked detail as I imagined it. I was frightened by the image and shut my eyes tightly to blur it out of my head.

Ayesha mewed yet again, pressing into my leg, "Enough, my girl," my eyes drifted open, Ayesha now up to my face with her nose against mine, "You were very rude to her, you know? Scratching at her stockings, hissing when she tried to pet you - so immature."

She mewed again, off to eat one of her catches, and I became sickened with myself. I resorted to talking to Ayesha as if she were human and though I knew she could not understand me, I felt that talking to her would help to overcome all that plagued my mind. The sickness was maddening and I wanted only to die - every suicide attempt ending only in unconsciousness. How great it would be to fall victim to my lasso.

My little feline friend came to sit beside my foot, licking her bloody paws. She was a ruthless, disturbing cat - almost like myself if she were human. Again I began to speak to her as if she were a human, but I spoke unconsciously when my mind realized the lack of companionship.

"For the many I have killed, you still remain more violent than I. How is that ever possible?"

I looked finally to the door of my torture chamber, hopeful at last. Perhaps this was the final draw in my bout of suicidal attempts. Perhaps this ungodly device would put an end to my misery, which certainly couldn't get any worse as an ugly man living under the broken opera house in a sewer, no less. What else could I do at this point in my life but fade away peacefully in a death of boiling skin and bursting organs? I turned to the lever and pulled down the giant arm of the lion on the wall, finally glad that I couldn't escape this death.

My feline friend mewed as she noticed me headed into the chamber, trying to follow along, "No, my lady," I shoved her aside and opened the front door, "You still have a chance at love, dear. Go ahead - find your mate."

She looked up at me as if to cry, but solemnly left the underground dungeon I called home. The chamber door remained open and I stared for a moment at the landscape on the wall and the sand that covered the ground - it was Persia, my hell. What better place for me to die than one in which I killed many people and I was hunted down merely for resembling the devil. Then again, in what town wasn't I hunted? I couldn't think of a time in my life where I was truly free to live my musical lifestyle. Where people didn't enslave me because of a dark talent or keep me as a show to put on display. The closest I'd come to freedom was the Garnier and even then I had used my cruel talents to protect a name I had made - an utter waste of time.

Upon shutting the door, I felt the heat start to overwhelm my body and I sank into a corner of the room as the mirrors started to appear. Watching my skeletal frame waver in the heat of the room was quite the sight. I watched the ugliness of my face as my golden eyes reflected back at me like the sun would on a summer's day. My mind had become blurry and I took a deep breath as I heard it start to kick into higher and higher degrees. My vision was blurred with beads of sweat dripping from my forehead and I waited for the sweet release of death - first step being heat exhaustion. I wanted that moment so much but felt a strong grasp around my back and nothing but patterned silk was in sight. Who could this be?


	2. Chapter 2

_**Nadir:**_

It was a long, weary month after the events at Erik's demonic abode. The Vicomte de Chagny and I were safely returned to our homes and I heard not long ago that he had let go of the girl. It was pleasing to know that she would be safe, but I had to wonder for a moment what would make Erik do such a thing if he did all this to have her. Was goodness finally upon him, however unlikely that was? Who could know but him, really... it was folly to trap her, but odd of him to let go so early. So speaking to him was a necessity.

I reached the singed, black gates and found Ayesha stepping outside into the world. She seemed lost outside, unlike every other cat, and looked up at me for moment - odd. Erik would never release that poor feline into the world after how he first found her. The gates opened with ease and I found the front door to Erik's prison-like home ajar. With the way things felt, I was not sure about entering but did against my better judgment. I heard the soft humming of his chamber and worried for a moment - this could not be the case. Something else has to be happening.

My eyes widened at seeing his corpse-like frame leaning in a corner of the chamber. The poor man had to be exhausted from the heat. I found an empty bottle in the corner of the red room and filled it with water from his elaborate tap device in the kitchen. The level pried easily and I picked him up from the ground, his frail body cracking beneath my arm. O, poor, poor Erik. What can he do but die with all the pain he has caused. Yet a loyal friend shall be beside him even at his worst - and there have worse times, to say the least.

I hear him groan as we step outside, the sunset directly in his eyes. It was very difficult to carry such a tall, slender man, but I managed as I threw him into the wagon to the back of my horse. The cat stared at wagon for a moment, puzzled as master laid splayed on top of the haystacks. Then I remember - I cannot be seen with him! This man is available for a prize - available for fifty thousand francs to whoever turned him into the gendarme. I adjust his cloak over his head and throw some of the grain over him, but it still isn't enough. Someone would notice, but sundown is approaching and there is at least some hope that most people would be home with their families.

Ayesha began to wander off and I waved farewell to the little cat, taking off towards the trees which stood almost a mile from the opera. The dampness of the summer's air had started to settle and began turning into a cool, brisk night. I heard a shuffle behind me and found the wagon starting to become taut around the harnesses of the poor beast. Soon we would arrive, so it didn't worry me too much. I only thought of Erik at this point. Of his safety, but mostly mine. O, the things that could happen if I was caught with him.

Finally, within the countryside, everything was much calmer. I found our little refuge and stopped the wagon just before the door. The people in the county were old-fashioned, but I found it quite useful when dealing with matters like these. The poor people hadn't any idea of the opera ghost or what had happened only a month ago. Most of them were out trying to find a way to make something for their family and for that they have all my blessings. I took my unconscious friend into the little farmhouse, his skin now unbearably cool. Two of the townspeople looked onto me with such unfavorability and I realized how this must have seemed to the regular individual. There was no escaping this judgment, though - Erik needed such a dire amount of help.

I set him on the doorstep and drenched his shirt in some of the water, his golden eyes scaring me away. He looked around the town very confused, standing on his uneasy legs as he glared at me. I hadn't seen such a look from him in years - such a combination of sadness, anger, and hatred was so obvious.

"Daroga!"

"Erik, hush. You know these people are beyond-"

"I do not care!"

I brought him inside, slightly taken aback as he wept beside the front door. I had never seen him cry before and now I realized how the girl must have felt at the sight of it. It was such an odd thing to experience, a crying skeleton, but I couldn't look away.

"Erik?"

"One wish, Daroga. I had one wish to die and you couldn't let me do so in peace! Why do you insist on 'helping' when the only help I need is that of the reaper."

Seeing him in his poorest of states was truly something to behold. I helped him towards the family room and settled his body into the armchair beside the window. He sighed into the seat and looked wearily around the room, his whole being grasped in the trials of love and loss. I felt for him, really, but that meant nothing having a wife and five children who have since been married off. There was no way to relate to him on this personal level, but I was sure that I could at least calm him.

"Erik, I know you loved her dearly. So why let go after all you have done to get her?"

He stared at me for a moment, then out the window. He finally realized his bare face and drew his fedora further down his head, obviously ashamed of himself.

"Upon the night I released each of you, we spent the next day together. She was sad for her boy and wept beside me. We both wept until we couldn't anymore and I kissed her, daroga, on the forehead... as a father would," he heaved a bit, setting each palm on his chest, "then she kissed mine and I couldn't bear it. She kissed me!" the childish excitement in his glistening eyes was quite amusing as he went on cheering about his lovely moment with Christine, "After all these years and not even my poor mother would kiss me. Who could ever blame the unfortunate woman? Anyone would send their son up to the attic as she had to me. But that night with Christine," he sat upright and looked down at his shoes, breathing quite heavily now, "o, how could I ever ask for more. She gave more than she had. More than she should have. And I took it all like the monster I am."

"'T'was a chaste kiss, Erik-"

"But one, nonetheless," he looked hopefully at stars in the window just behind me, so certain that his life held no more value, "And I told her to return once I had gone, but you ruined that for me. Now how will I allow death to come when my body continues to fight on regardless of the trials I put it through?"

"Perhaps it's a sign that you should keep on."

"Ah, daroga," he shook his head at me, now standing against the wall, "Out of all the things to take you for, I did not expect a fool to be on that list."


	3. Chapter 3

_**Erik:**_

I vaguely remember last months performance, which was such a thrill for myself. Singing my Don Juan on stage with Christine was such an odd time, but I regret the stage directions. I knew how vulnerable she was the entire time as I softly grazed over her form whilst singing that blasted melody. How could I do that to her? What kind of person could torture their "love" that way - feeling them in a public setting. Even in an opera that is such a disgusting low. I could never be anything but ashamed.

Nadir stared out the window as I had, now unbearably silent. He would usually pester me with some odd question, but he remained quiet and solemn, "I know I've been rather cold," he turned at my words, "I only wish the best for everyone else and the best thing that could happen is taking me out of the world."

"I understand," he adjusted his cap and headed for the door, but paused for a moment - the horse outside lapping water from the well as he did, "I will be gone for a day or two at the Giry's. They are fleeing to the New World and I might decide to go along. Madame said there might be an arrangement for you if you'd like to come along."

The thought of starting from the ground was so appealing, but I realized that every chance I had to do so I had ruined. There was nothing that could be done about me but the freedom of death, "Thank you for your offer, but I might not go. Hopefully my body will give in to the inevitability of death."

The daroga left the little farmhouse and I watched the constellations through the windows. Everything seemed so peaceful in the sky; so serene, majestic, and vibrant. Though it was nightfall, all the colors of summer remained. All the flowers, the new leaves upon the trees, young calves and their mothers; all so lovely and so pure. It reminded me of another lovely and pure person who had given all she shouldn't have. My dear, darling Christine; why she would dare to even touch me was a mystery in and of itself. O, I pity her. Captured by the beast and torn through hell... but set free at the end. That was all that mattered; she was free to go. I almost regret the decision to make her leave, but if it stopped her from crying, then it was all worthwhile.

The dirt became mud as it rained and I walked peacefully down the path as the moon became sheltered within the clouds. Though it was quite dark, I found my way around the little town and heard a woman weeping nearby. She sat on the rest underneath the black street lamp, her face in her hands. I felt terrible for her, my heart reaching out, but knew there wasn't a thing I could ever do. The poor lady; who could know what tragedy struck her heartstrings. Perhaps, with all the dread that was my life, I could offer a shoulder to this poor woman. Though, when she removed her hands, I saw her lovely features and gasped - my love. Oh, what to do?

"E-," she stood, baffled by my presence, "Erik? Is that you?"

I gulped down the urge to run and felt my heart skip a beat at the sound of her glorious voice. Not even a month and I still became so timid in her presence, "Yes. Why," I stopped, gazing at her lacey, pink gown, "why do you cry?"

She gently dabbed her cheeks, which softly matched the color of her gown. Her hair was slightly spilling from her pins and she looked rather cold. I wrapped her warmly in my cloak, bringing her in for an embrace. I felt odd doing this, taking her into my arms. What was even more strange about this was her small frame; child-like in my arms. I couldn't touch her in this way or in any way, for that matter, and so I released her. Her eyes, still warm from crying, wandered about my form for something.

"Did you lose your mask?"

In my little tirade, I completely forgot about my mask. The thing had been destroyed at the opera after she threw it and I nodded at her. I pressed her again about her tears and she shook her head, uncertain.

"I do not want to talk about it."

"I won't hurt you, my dear," I gently took her hand and caressed her cheek, her face warm in my hand, "You can trust me, if you like."

She sniffled and gazed up at the sky - I forgot for a moment how afraid of the dark she still was. It made perfect sense after what I put her through, "Is there somewhere warmer we can go?"

I was hesitant, at first, to take her to the little farmhouse, but I politely obliged. I couldn't let her get too cold and so inside we went. She became silent upon stepping indoors, looking around at the homely place. Her presence alone made the house seem all the more lovely. She sighed beside the hearth, warming her hands at the fire. It was so peculiar - like she hadn't been inside in years.

"Are you alright, my dear?"

She nodded, taking my cloak off her shoulders and hanging it carefully on the rack, "Yes. And thank you."

"Anytime, I suppose," I gazed at her for a moment, envision the future; how lonely I would be and the many children she was destined to have, "May I know?"

"Know what?"

"Why you wept?"

She stared for a moment at the flames, then became distant. She shook her head and found comfort in the loveseat, beginning again to weep. I sat beside her and brought her in, very careful with her delicacy. She sighed away, the whites of her eyes pink, and looked again at the hearth.

"I am to be married tomorrow, Erik. And I am terribly frightened," we made eye contact for a brief moment and then she looked away, almost ashamed, "I thought I'd be ready, but I know now that I am more terrified than ever before."

"You are marrying your boy," I said this coldly, but tried to remain warm with her, "So why are you worried? He is just for you."

"I am only frightened," only a month and I'd forgotten how pure and innocent she was; marriage would definitely change that innocence and perhaps she was fearful of something similar to that, "I worry for the worst, Erik. I feel so tired crying about it, but I am scared that I will fail to be wholesome. The de Chagny's, they expect so much of me. They think because I was a performer that I am a loose woman. I try to prove them wrong through my good deeds, but they do not see it so. And sometimes I gaze outside and sing a song and his mother looks upon me with distaste. I wish I could be what they want, but I just don't know how. I feel no matter what I do or say, they will make me seem less of what I am and more of what I'm not."

"These things are trivial, my dear. Once you prove yourself to be good and pure and once you have born a child, they will be more than pleased with you."

"I simply can't," she laid her head on my shoulder and I froze at her contact, trying to be as distant as possible; one had to be careful with these situations, "I do not know what I wish anymore. I am as lost as ever. I am more confused than the time I met you."

I couldn't touch her was all that went through my mind. I was much too close, especially since she was engaged. I closed my eyes to rid myself of her ethereal beauty, focusing instead on her words. Lost and confused, similar to how I was when I was young, "You will find your place some day, dear."

"Some never find their place," instantly I was reminded of myself, shaking off the self-disgust in order to help her.

"You will."

I lifted her head from my shoulder and poked at the coals, thunder coming down from above. I felt her arms drape over my back as she shuddered, setting down the poker into the silver tin. Upon turning, I gazed at her flushed face and she looked into my eyes with her peachy lips softly parted. I had remembered her kiss on my forehead and turned away from her face, looking instead at the window.

"You are still afraid of storms?"

"I apologize," she stepped away from me, her cheeks still pink in embarrassment, "I..." my hand bravely rested on the curve of her and I felt a fire in my soul, trembling at our closeness, "Erik?"

Her lips looked so inviting and I kept telling myself, desperately, to stop gazing at them. I had never touched lips with anyone, nor had I been so privileged to touch the waist of a woman. For a moment we looked at one another and then it happened; I'd kissed her. Though I wasn't sure how, I felt each of us tremble at the touch of our lips, her hand gently on the nape of my neck. I grazed the other side of her waist and, suddenly, she stepped away. She gasped, her flush even more evident now, and looked at the moonless sky outside.

"I... I must go."

She stood at the open door, looking up at the rain, and I took her hand. We gazed at another again, this time for a brief moment, and she trembled as leaned against the door frame, "Must you?" she nodded and I brought each of her hands up for a kiss, her cheeks turning pink, "I don't want you to get cold, my dear. Are you sure you will be alright?"

She looked out as the droplets came down heavily, then back at the hearth where the flames raged on, "Perhaps a moment or two..."


	4. Chapter 4

_**Christine:**_

"I don't want you to get cold, my dear," his hands brought a gentle coolness to mine and I saw his eyes becoming a warmer shade of gold; almost green, "Are you sure you will be alright?"

As the rain poured on outside, I gazed at the hearth thinking carefully about what I was doing to myself; what I could jeopardize with this one simple decision to stay or leave. I thought about why I had come in the first place and about why I allowed him to take me under his wing again. He was such a persuasive man, that couldn't be denied, but it was much to my dismay.

"Perhaps for a moment or two."

I sat at the hearth again and stared at the flames, my cheeks still tinged in a flush from our kiss. I had never expected him to be so bold, but for some reason, I didn't mind it. I felt a breeze as the front door shut and the fire suffered from the heavy rain. I heard Erik behind me, his presence making me shiver, and gently touched his hand. He was intensely cold and it reminded me of the dark nights we had in his abode below ground. The moonless sky intensified and the darkness began to frighten me as I loosely wrapped his arms under my neck.

"E- Erik," I gulped, stepping away from him, "It's rather dark. Is there a lamp?"

"Sadly, all the lamps have been gone. There might be a candle somewhere."

"Please."

It startled me when he struck the match onto the wicks, offering me the candelabra. In the dim light, with the candles in my grasp and his strong, gloved hand on my wrist, I felt a shiver travel down my spine. His eyes illuminated beside the flame and I stared at the golden orbs for a moment rather intrigued by his presence. He always filled me with a strange warmth I could not ignore; one that felt so disgusting and wicked, but also pleasant and soft.

"Thank you."

He nodded, quickly looking away from my eyes. He seemed so distance and cold, but I could not complain; I was to marry tomorrow, after all.

"Anything for you, my dear."

So much I wanted his passion and fire to return, but so much I kept reminding myself of Raoul wanting so. And the more I thought of Erik, the more frightened I became; all I knew of him was passion, insanity, and dominance. My eyes were beginning to water with all that flooded my mind and began letting our my feelings.

"Oh dear," I steadied the candelabra with my other hand as my knees went weak and I fell to the ground, "W- what shall I do?"

I felt his cool hand graze the nape of my neck and shivered as his looming presence grew dauntingly closer; every nerve in my body tingled at once knowing he was behind me and with the gust of wind from the window ajar the candles blew out. He helped me from the ground and onto the lounge, the fire still rolling in the coals, and kept quiet when he began dabbing the tears from my cheeks with a handkerchief. I focused solely on his yellow eyes, trying warily to stay awake as he seemed to wrap me in blankets with the swirling, majestic sun rays.

"You shall become an angel of the house," he retrieved his handkerchief and gazed instead at the fire, avoiding my eyes, "It is your destiny, I suppose. To marry the Viscount and have many children. To become... a woman."

"I suppose I shall," I moved from the lounge, his presence still haunting my spirit as I gazed coldly at the hearth, "And what becomes of me shall I fail?"

I turned my head and immediately noticed his lips, his eyes gazing down to mine, "You shan't fail."

I felt his hand softly graze my arm, wary of his touch as his body drew ever so closer. His lips touched mine and his other palm caressed the back of my neck whilst I gently touched his hair. The closer his hand drew to my breast, the more frightened I'd become and I cowered away just before he could, even though my body was trembling with delight. His rough digits still loosely around my neck held me close to him and the teardrops that fell on either side of my face had convinced me not to move as the swirling, yellow sunbeams of his eyes softly touched my lips. O, the passion and heat of him were more than any girl could bear.

"O, Erik," I glanced at the door and observed my only chance for escape taken from me at my childish lust; what kind of awful woman would not give her beloved husband her purest self, her virgin, "Why must you play me as elegantly as one of your precious instruments?"

"You are one of them," I was taken by his words, but butter in his hands, nonetheless, "Not only had I molded you from the finest of beauties into a seraphic angel, but you have proven time again your passions which you cannot deny."

"Please," his hands tightened around my back as he pulled in for another of his magical kisses, which I had no thought to back away from; o, the torments I was climbing into, to the disgrace of my poor fiancé, "Please avert your gaze."

"I cannot," his rough lips smoothed over the small area between my neck and my shoulder, a shudder warily escaping my mouth, "A beauty as yours is much too divine to simply ignore. I feel immense heat simply from your warm gaze, my dear."

Each soft touch upon me had me frozen in place and at the moment his arms wrapped around my waist and he kissed me again, I fell into his deep spell. With every gentle caress and kiss, we laid with another on the chaise and the fire beside kept us warm until the rain had again put out the flames. He untied the bow on my gown, looking for reassurance in my gaze, and I allowed it...


	5. Chapter 5

_**Erik:**_

Sunlight began to break on the horizon just as I tied my cravat back into my shirt, my dear Christine still resting on the chaise in practicality nothing. I gave her my cloak and she smiled into the fabric, bringing it into her chest. Only then had I realized the full extent of what I had done to her, my remorse a painful ache in my heart. I had ruined her; her body and her marriage both ruined by me and there was nothing I could do but leave her in peace. Though the thought made me weep, I hadn't another choice in the matter; it was time to let go.

I couldn't bear parting with her after what beauty we had shared, but the consequences for us both were not the brightest. It broke my heart to leave as she stirred there on the chaise and, before stepping into the new dawn, I whispered her one last goodbye. Each step away made me feel heavier, but I had no other choice - this was the best for her and what was her best option was my obligatory decision.

The Giry's household stood only a few steps away and I had so many doubts at my final choice, but knew this was the best I could do for my poor girl. Madame opened the door and warily let me in, her daughter standing on the staircase in her dressing gown.

"Meg, would you become decent?"

"Apologies, mother."

The young blonde vanished to get changed and I straightened up, Madame taking an envelope from her pocket, "The ferry leaves tonight, Erik. But you must put on a great disguise to prevent action."

"Of course. Is there a course we are set on?"

Madame shook her head and, suddenly, there was knock on the front door. Her eyes lit up in fear and she showed me to the linen closet, "Quick! Inside and don't make a sound!"

I could see everything from the open panels of the closet and heard a familiar voice. It was her; my darling lady. But I could not come out in fear of her and I had to stay away; it is best that we grow apart.

"Hello, dear," Madame led her away from the closet and handled an elegant, white gown, "I didn't see you back last night? Where did you go off?"

"I was visiting a friend."

"Ah," she was down to her hoops as Madame threw the large, white gown over her, "Might ask why you are in tears-"

"I am fine, Madame."

It saddened her that I had left, but it was what I had to do; we couldn't go on together because of how selfish it would be on my part. At the moment, I kept my gaze averted, but I was curious to see how she'd dress for the Vicomte. Seeing her in her beautiful wedding gown was something I had always hoped to be part of, but there was. The train of her gown at least two feet on the ground with her silk, white veil covering her beautiful face; she looked as elegant as a queen and yet I had taken away her greatest prize... her virginity.

"Thank you, Madame."

"Anytime, pet."

Tears came to my eyes quickly as she left the house into her large, pink carriage, Madame's daughter carrying her train. I wished the best for her, but I wanted nothing more than one last kiss, "The coast is clear now, Erik."

I left the darkness of the closet and stepped into the rays of sunlight, with the brim of my hat shading her eyes from mine. Her family room was filled with bags, now, because of the move and I felt a pang in my chest realizing the reality of this situation. I was leaving everything behind for what awaited me beyond those gates and I did not even know where the boat was headed. Madame and her daughter would be boarding the ferry like normal people, but I would have to go on the cargo hold with the rats; where Nadir would be working until we arrived to wherever awaited us.

"Monsieur Khan is ready, yes?"

I nodded, "He said there will be a cot for me with the other men and that I shall work for my keep. The men aboard will not mind me, long as I keep to my space."


	6. Chapter 6

_**Christine:**_

The wedding was supposed to be the happiest moment of a lady's life, but during the entire ceremony I felt like weeping; I ruined myself for love. I lost my purest self to a man I could never love and, even though it was the biggest mistake of my waking hour, I could never regret it. Erik was to me as a flower was to spring, and yet we grew apart; ripped away by the harsh grasp of winter; a cold reality in our midst. Raoul was the best decision and a man that any woman would croon for; wealthy, handsome and charming. He was brooding and proper, yet homely and safe; all that I wanted and needed, but not what I yearned to have.

Poor Raoul held my hands as we rode in our large carriage towards his manor and kissed me again on the lips. I was on the verge of tears as his warm hands roamed over the skin of my arms, remembering Erik's strong, cool grasp from the night before. Oh why; why did I have to do this to myself? Perhaps he wouldn't notice, but then again, he might have been with many virgins before; especially after his plight in the marine nationale those many years.

The way he stared at me with his big, blue eyes made me melt in arms, even though I could not forgive myself for being ruined. He kissed my cheek again, "Little Lotte, let her mind wander," another kiss upon my lips and I couldn't hold in the tears, "Christine?"

"Yes, dear?"

He stepped out of the carriage and offered me his hand. In full view stood his glorious manor, with a marble step at the front. Marble pillars supported a beautiful awning the size of my dressing room at the opera and lilies surrounded the entryway in small pots. I looked back at my husband and took his hand down the steps of the carriage.

"You will love it here, Christine. It will likely be quite the change, but I have taken personal care to our bedroom."

I was sure the manor was lovely and it definitely was on the outside, but I knew that my life would be dedicated now to making a family. He opened the door and shakily carried me over the threshold, his family applauding our arrival.

"Oh dear, you are the most beautiful bride I could ever wish for my Raoul!"

His mother had a warm and friendly smile that was welcoming to any eyes and her choice in fragrance accentuated her features quite nicely. She was a homely lady, displaying her wealth with the feathers of exotic birds and diamond hairpins strategically placed throughout her updo. Her husband was a gentle, old man who wore a full beard and twirled mustache. He put on his hat and kissed me on the cheek before taking the hand of his wife.

"We best get back to Monte Carlo before the train station gets much too crowded. Good luck, you two!"

Phillipe was headed to his chambers just as the parents left, each of his sisters along with their husbands going to their respective homes. We were left in the hall, Raoul showering me in affectionate kisses, his hands wandering higher on my bodice.

"No," I felt so embarassed for pushing him aside and I couldn't; this was supposed to be our night, "I... what I meant... privacy."

He smiled at me fondly as he reached for my hand, taking me up the marble steps coated in a deep blue Persian rug. Centered in the wall stood the doors to the master bedroom and I felt myself begin to tremble at the thought of being intimate with Raoul. He opened the doors to our room and carried me to the bed, leaving me a moment to stoke the fireplace. The bed curtains above me gently flew about in the breeze from the open window next to it. Over in the corner by the fireplace, I noticed Phillipe sitting in a large, white armchair.

Raoul laughed with his brother, flipping through some sort of weird pamphlet in a wallet. Phillipe blinked at me when he left the room, taking the wallet with him. I felt my face turn warm and kept to myself, uneasily still.

"Do not mind him, dear," Raoul whispered, lifting me from the comfort of the bed, "My brother is a... worldly man."

I shivered as he gently ran his fingers up and down my back, starting to unlace my gown. As soon as he had reached my corset, I found myself reliving last night. I blushed remembering the night I had with Erik; trying my very best to forget. I focused on Raoul, or at least tried to, and I hoped that he wouldn't notice my haziness.

"Oh my," he grasped my bare waist, holding me to his chest, "You're so lovely."

The wall ahead of me had a tapestry which I decided to keep my focus on. Beside the tapestry on an end table was a damaged photograph of Raoul in his naval uniform. I suddenly felt his soft lips graze my neck and I shivered from the sensation as my hands remained on his shoulders. I suddenly felt sick, but I let him in. Somehow, I had convinced him of my innocence and he kissed my cheeks. My eyes became heavy and I let go of myself and gave into the night.


	7. Chapter 7

_**Erik:**_

Even occupied by loading a steamship with coal, I could not banish the image of my darling Christine from my mind. I so much yearned for her and my heart would not rest until I knew she was safe. She was a perfect angel on that night, letting a beast like myself touch her. But even then, her beauty extended beyond simply physical appearance. In the way she touched back, in a way that made it seem like she cared for me, gently inching over the tender scars on my back. I remember savoring each moment, especially the sweet kisses and tight embrace of our bodies, our rhythms never faltering. I couldn't help but think to leave was my greatest mistake, but it would be best for her. She needed the safety and security of the Vicomte - a thing I could not yet deliver.

On a day such as this, where waters are still with a gentle current, we require much less coal and hence fewer men in the engine room. With the hood of my cloak pulled snugly over my head, I wait for the scruffy gentleman to come with my scraps for the night; a glass of water, bread and bit of questionable meats, "Here you are."

I accept the food and continue to stare solemnly at the engine, "Thank you."

LIfting up my hood, I bite into the bread and open up my parchment pad. I continue my little art piece of my angel, adding soft ringlets to her head all trailing down past her waist. Her eyes glisten even in the sketch - her cheeks etched into a flush that copied that of our other passionate duet.

"Drawing her, still?" I slam the parchment pad shut and look up to see Nadir eating an orange, "You said you were beginning to realize she does not-"

"I'm not sure anymore."

I ate one of the meat blobs and drowned it down my throat with some water, Nadir becoming a bit worried at my behavior, "What happened to you? Ever since that blasted night, you have been even more cynical and bothersome than usual. Also more elated on some days, but you seem to be confused."

"As I said before, it is nothing to worry about."

Nadir shook his head and looked out the porthole at the starry night sky - the moon in full view. He ate the last slice of the orange and crushed the peel in his left hand.

"I do worry about this, Erik. I don't want you to fail this next move."

"Believe me, daroga, I do not have the energy required to fail this time."

He laughed at my statement and I responded by tossing one of the meaty blobs at him.

"Ah, childish man."

He ate the meat and snatched my parchment from my fingertips, I not having the energy to retrieve it. He gazed at the etching for a moment, tracing the details with his fingertips.

"She is quite beautiful, isn't she?"

He flipped to the beginning of my pad - the beginning of my obsession and lust. I was glad to have left the questionable drawings to burn at the opera house, but even then I had drawn her in rather strangely on some pages. The daroga shut the pad and slid it at my feet, staring at for more second.

"You still love her, don't you?"

She is all I can think of anymore. Her pretty, round face, her soft and cheery voice, eyes that shine like gold... I could never get over her. She is everything that embodies femininity and kindness and yet she leaves a hole in my heart. My precious Christine isn't mine and that is a hard thing for me to understand. Everything that I have done for her, her voice and her publicity, all fade away as she promises herself to the Vicomte so that she may become a good, child-bearing wife. The thought of her creating his child makes me rage with jealousy, but also smile to think that there will be more good souls like hers in the world.

"Beyond all reason."

I shovel another clump of coal into the generator, then eating my last bite of bread, "Her wedding would have been today. Now that it is nighttime-"

"You mustn't remind me," I put the parchment pad and pencil away, drinking the last sip of water, "I very well know about wedding nights, daroga, even when never having one myself."

He sighed into his gloves, removing that dusty astrakhan cap, "You know I regret being your fellow, sometimes."

"That isn't obvious."

"Well, you do make it difficult for people to care," he lit his cigar from the generator and took in a big huff, "But when you care for people you definitely don't make it known. With the exception of the little lady, of course."

"I would not say I care for you, daroga. We simply get along. You make my painful existence a little less dull."

He laughed, "Even when I betray your trust?"

"I thought you wouldn't remind me. That angered me only slightly, but I knew the Vicomte would eventually find his way to the torture chamber. You only sped up the process."

"I see," he rubbed out the ashes of the tobacco and set the extinguished cigar in a box, "Well, either way, I'm glad you have decided to join us. New York will be much more exciting with you there."

"I am hoping you mean that in a way that doesn't refer to Mazandaran."

"Oh, you know I have left Persia far behind," he slapped his cap back on and stood for a stretch, "I was not too keen on serving a dictator, anyhow. At least now I can comfortably live on my own accord."


End file.
